Imagine Brittana - This chapter is dedicated to you. You are a little hub of inspiration. And yes you are on the right track with the friendly shadow.
I would just like to say a huge thank you to everyone who followed or favourite and reviewed and to anyone else that is reading this. Your mails and messages are appreciated. In addition, I always love reading them. It lets me know I'm on the write track
I do not have a beta at the moment so any grammatical errors and spelling mistakes are my own. I apologise. I am looking for a beta so if any one is interested drop me a line.
You can also get in contact at my handle. Tumblr . com
Hope u like it.
Disclaimer I do not own the characters of glee ..
X
X
X
Chapter 10 Interlude.
April 14th 1982. Los Angeles, California.
X
X
"Cut! Everybody take a break!" Max roared.
People shuffling and gathering their belongings as they made their way to the exits, were the only sounds to permeate the awe struck silence that shrouded the small studio.
Santana blinked as the illumination of the room changed from the harsh glare of the stage lighting to the much softer hue of the over head light fixtures.
Diane sat on the edge of her seat still in a state of rapture at the revelation.
"Jesus!" The reporter exhaled as she flopped back in her chair, stunned and unable to move as the door banged shut heralding the last of the crew to leave.
Santana began fiddling with the dolphin pendent around her neck, waiting for the fire works to begin. She was filled with apprehension as Max approached the stage, the veins on his neck popping as he began screaming,
"What the fuck was that? This is supposed to be a fucking documentary not a fucking confession!"
"Here we go!" She thought as she observed the directors jaw working and his eyes flashing with anger as he towered over the two women.
"What the fuck Diane? You're the journalist!"
Diane immediately snapped out of her daze at his words,
"Calm down Max."
Santana chewed on her bottom lips as she met the intense stare of the other women. She really should not have gone about it the way that she had. It was not Diane's fault. It was she who was solely to blame. Holding up her hand, she laced her voice with sweetness as she spoke,
"Max, have you ever wanted one of those elusive awards up on your wall?"
He narrowed his eyes, focusing intently upon her. She allowed a smirk to play over her lips. She knew that she now had his full attention,
"Well my dear the story I am telling you can be used in so many different ways that if you have any skills as a director you may very well have an Oscar worthy documentary on your hands"
She winked at the reporter across from her.
"You arranged this?"
His eyes darted between the two women. Neither moved. He rounded on the journalist.
"Diane! You ever do something like this again I'll have your neck!"
The reporter continued to stare back at her,
"Fuck!"
The director screamed, running his hand through his dark hair as he stormed off, leaving the two women behind.
"Bloody hell, Santana! I knew it was juicy but I wasn't expecting this!"
Santana sat back observing the flicker of disbelief pass over the other woman's usually stoic features. Diane was renowned for being unshakable. She knew she had thrown the talk show host for six.
The interviewer studied her, muttering,
"This is going to be huge!" Diane shook herself. "I don't know about you but I could do with a smoke!"
"Me too." Santana agreed, knowing what was coming her way once they were alone.
Her eyes landed on the young stylist hovering in the wing. She beckoned him over,
"Bryan be a dear and help an old lady to her feet."
He stepped forward, offering his arm,
"I swear I was not eavesdropping Ms Perez."
He began helping the Hollywood icon rise stiffly to her feet.
"When my friends and I play 'How Many Gay's' we always get stuck on you and end up debating whether you play for our team. They owe me 20 bucks!"
Santana could not stop the deep laugh that shook all of her tiny frame. Diane silently came to her other side, helping to hold her steady as she gathered her legs beneath her. Bryan offered the actress her cane. She took it in her gnarled hand never letting go of the young stylist's arm as he fussed and smoothed out her dress.
"20 bucks? Really? You should of made it 50!"
"You're a wily rogue." He teased.
"More than you know!"
He guffawed at her comment. Straightening her shoulders, she set off with a spry spring her step.
X
X
X
As she entered the safety of her dressing room a mixture of apprehension and relief washed over her. She retrieved her stylish black and white Chanel purse from beneath the small coffee table against the far wall. To hide her face she kept her back to the stylist and the journalist. Her hands began to shake as she placed a silver cigarette case, matching lighter and cigarette holder on the table.
She had to stay strong. If she broke now she would lose her nerve. She couldn't do that.
Not to Brittany.
Bryan immediately began to busy himself, checking the coffee maker for heat, cursing under his breath,
"God damn it! I told them to have it ready. That assistant is useless!"
She couldn't help but think how sweet the young man was as he politely asked,
"I'm heading to the cafeteria. Would you ladies like anything?"
"No thank you Bryan!" The reporter's curt reply felt like ice down her back.
"Ms Perez?"
She breathed in through her nose, exhaling slowly to steady the emotion in her voice, giving the young stylist a wan smile,
"Coffee. Strong and black, please my dear."
"Ok. I'll be back soon." He threw over his shoulder as he left.
She lowered herself into one of the armchairs, crossing her legs demurely at the ankle. She could feel the reporter watching her every move. The weight of unasked questions and curiosity radiated from her. The actress slowly removed a lady slim from the cigarette case, placing it in the holder with a deftness she was surprised she still possessed. She had not smoked properly in years.
"Once you learn a nervous habit, you never unlearn" She mused.
Lighting it, she allowed the smoke to fill her lungs, stalling the trepidation that coursed through her as she patiently waited for the questions that would surely come.
In an attempt to break the slight tension, she offered out her cigarette case.
Diane closed the distance between them, her delicate fingers teasing the white stick from its nesting place, leaning forward; she bowed her head, raising it to her lips, inhaling as Santana clicked the lighter.
Tendrils of smoke drifted into the room as they both exhaled.
She watched through hooded eyes, shielding them from the smoke as Diane took a bottle of Pellegrino from a small fridge in the corner of the room, kicking it closed with one expensive heel before returning to her previous spot, leaning against the make up table.
"Why didn't you warn me just how big this was going to be?" The taller brunette asked accusingly.
Santana took a long drag on her cigarette before replying,
"I did! I asked how far down the rabbit hole were you prepared to go!"
She could see the talk show host remembering all their late night phones calls, mapping out exactly what the interview would cover. Diane unbuttoned her blazer with annoyance,
"Still! You should have told me!"
"I didn't know if I could!" The Hollywood icon began to twirl the lighter between her fingers.
She had not known if she could take that risk. She had wanted the true story out there. She felt guilty at not being entirely honest. Over the last few months, she felt like she had got to know the world-renowned interviewer. Blindsiding her and causing her to be shouted at by her superior had been completely unprofessional and unfair.
"I could barely say it to myself." She admitted.
The reporter continued to eye her, her expression unfathomable.
"How far does it go?"
Santana flicked the ash from the tip into the ashtray, on the table beside her,
"All the way."
"Oh God!"
Diane opened the small bottle of water, swallowing half of it in one gulp.
"You know what this mean? Right?"
Santana nodded, watching the smoke as it rose and finally disappeared,
"I do!"
She had prepared herself, knowing that once she opened the floodgates there would be no turning back.
She could not! Even if she tried.
She knew the risks but she didn't care. For too long she had kept this to herself. The weight and the gravity of it all had become too much.
It was time.
"I hope you're ready?" was the soft reply.
She held Diane's almost mournful gaze. A steely determination filled her voice as she stated.
"Diane. I am an old woman. My career is long over. I have nothing to lose!"
She stubbed out her cigarette with ferocity. Decimating it with frustration,
"I will not leave this world without people knowing who she was!"
The reporter began,
"She was dear to you. I understand but…"
Santana balled her hands into fists. A fire ignited deep within her. Cutting off the other woman, she yelled,
"She was more than dear to me! She was my everything! I would not be who I am if it wasn't for her. People need to know that!"
Diane ran her hand through her hair as she quietly replied,
"I just want to make sure your still on board for this? Once this comes out, things are going to get crazy. And you can kiss your self imposed seclusion goodbye!"
"I am!" Santana snapped.
An uneasy silence settled between them. Santana lit another cigarette.
The door burst open breaking the tension. Bryans tone was light and breezy as he announced,
"Ladies! I have returned."
"Thank small mercies!" Santana thought to herself. She had not liked the way the conversation had been going. Deep down, she knew she should not be angry with the reporter for being worried for her, but it irked her when people tried to take care of her. She had allowed only two people in her whole life do that and neither of them were alive any more.
He placed a take away cup on the table beside the retired singer,
"I know you said you didn't want anything but I got you a tea." Diane took the offered cup.
Unceremoniously he dumped sachets of sugar and stirrers from his pockets onto the table,
"I didn't know if either of you took sugar and they had no mugs." He added apologetically.
Santana ignored the other woman, instead she focused upon the task of adding sugar to her cup. Taking a sip, she winced at the bitter tasting liquid that mingled with the taste of the previous argument. She added another sugar.
"Thank you Bryan. It's perfect."
He plopped himself in the armchair beside her, looking between the two women.
"May I? He gestured to the box on the table.
"Help yourself my dear."
He took one, lighting it. Closing his eyes, he let out a moan,
"Ahhh! God I needed that!"
"What's happening upstairs?" She heard Diane ask.
"Max looks like he's about to blow a gasket!"
She flinched at his words. Guilt flooded her once more as she stirred her coffee, watching the light brown bubbles whirlpool. She knew what she must do. Diane deserved it.
"I'm truly sorry for everything Diane. I should of kept you in the loop." Sincerity filled her words. "I hope that you don't get into too much trouble."
The interviewer's features softened.
"Don't worry about it. He was only blowing smoke up my ass."
Santana watched as the brown-haired woman smiled into her cup.
"Once he realises what he has, he'll be singing our praises."
"Are we ok?" She ventured.
Forgiveness was all she could hope for after what had transpired. She fiddled with her dolphin pendent, anxious at Diane's answer, hoping she had not ruined their budding friendship. Diane had been right; things were about to get crazy and her allies were few and far between.
"We will be once I get my Pulitzer." Diane winked at her, smiling.
"Apology accepted," She thought as they both laughed at the reporter's confidence.
A look of confusion passed over Bryans features.
Suddenly the door banged open, breaking their revelry.
Max stood in the doorway, looking like he had been put through the wringer. His normally immaculate appearance, dishevelled. His hair stood in opposite directions, his shirt was crumpled and there was a light sheen at his brow.
"Oh nice to see someone is getting a giggle out of this." He snapped as his eyes raked over the three of them.
"You!" He pointed at the talk show host, "You got lucky this time! The higher ups have given the go ahead. It better be worth it!"
Diane observed him coolly. "It will be!"
"I want you back on set in 5!" He demanded, shooting them a glare before slamming the door behind him.
Santana rolled her eyes,
"No rest for the wicked eh?"
Pulling her purse onto her lap, she began to collect her belongings.
"Ms Perez?" Bryan asked hesitantly.
"Yes?"
She looked up into his green eyes. He swallowed.
"The dolphin pendent?"
"Yeah, I was wondering about that too."
She relaxed back into the chair.
Over the years, many had commented on the piece of jewellery she wore more religiously than Quinn had worn her golden crucifix. It had even become a joke between them both. Quinn praised God whilst she praised fish. Elation filled her. She could finally answer truthfully.
"I never take it off. It symbolises our first kiss." She played with it idly. "My first real kiss." She drifted off.
She remembered how her heart had hammered. The sound of it beating in her chest, like a bass drum, drowning out everything else. The over whelming anticipation as she tiptoed. She felt her hands twinge at the memory of how tight she had gripped the material of the shirt beneath them. The mixture of fear and embarrassment at how moist they had become. How every sense she possessed had seemed to stretch to its very limit. The smell of vanilla, still to this day was synonymous with the dancer. The sense of calm and the feeling of home as their lips had pressed together.
She could feel the ghosting of those soft lips upon hers, still.
"She tasted like Apples."
She snapped out of her memories once she realised that she was covered in goose bumps.
Both Diane and Bryan were staring at her with huge Bambi eyes. The young stylist let out an
"Awww!"
Gathering herself, she gripped her cane as she rose shakily to her feet,
"Come on you big softies. We better be going. I don't think our director can take any more excitement."
Diane sniggered as she fixed her appearance in the mirror. Bryan jumped up, clearing the mess that they had made.
"There all done." He gave one last critical look around the room before he offered his arm to the aging actress.
"Ms Perez?"
Santana eyed him with mischief,
"You really do remind me of someone. Especially, when you do that!"
She teased, enjoying the crimson that spread across his porcelain cheeks. She squeezed his arm,
"Don't worry; he was someone very special too!"
His face split into a beaming smile as they left the dressing room.
X
X
X
Once back in the interview room she fought back the rising panic as everyone's eyes were upon her. Over the years, she had become accustomed to people staring at her but this was different, this time they knew. Whispered conversations hushed as they walked past. She held her head high. The only thing that belied the butterflies she felt in her tummy and the prickling heat she felt down her spine was how tightly she gripped Bryans arm. He gave the back of her hand a reassuring rub as they made their way across the brightly lit stage.
Making herself comfortable in her chair, she observed the room. As she waited for the onslaught of the 'crows', Bryan began putting finishing touches to her hair, making sure it was perfect.
She realised that there were a lot more people in the studio than before. Up in the seated area, a small audience had gathered. Max was deep in conversation and gesturing wildly to a man in an expensive suit that kept looking in her direction.
"Ms Perez. May I?"
She tore herself back. A girl dressed in black, holding a make up palette, stood, expectantly. The make up artist began to dab gently at her skin.
"Can I just say…"
She froze. She could feel Bryan stop what he was doing as he laid a gentle and protective hand upon her shoulder. She appreciated the comfort. Santana locked eyes with the young girl, daring her to continue.
"I, I think you're very brave" The girl stammered under the intense glare.
"No, my dear! Being brave is being honest with yourself and having the courage to be who you are, no matter the circumstances."
The make up artist continued her work quickly, as she rose to leave she added,
"I just hope that one day I can be brave too. Just like you."
Santana blinked. She had not been expecting that. Before she could reply, the girl had gone.
"Well what do you know Ms Perez? You've started a gay revolution." Bryan teased as he sprayed her hair with a flourish.
She caught Diane's smirk. Feigning annoyance, she slapped at Bryans hand.
"Oh shut up! The pair of you!"
They both giggled at her as he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze before running off stage.
"Right, everybody places!" Max roared.
"On with the show. Are you ready Santana?" Diane whispered, leaning over the table.
She nodded. She was ready.
The lights dimmed.
"Ships of Time. Part 2!"
"Lights!"
"Camera!"
"Action!"